He had to wade through water up to his knees in order to get inside the van again. The work wasn’t easy. But he managed. When the heavy planks were in position, they formed a ramp leading right down into the water. Starting the engine and shifting into reverse, he backed the armored car until the rear wheels were part way down the ramp. Then he pulled on the emergency brake and got out. He made sure the front wheels were straight. Then he opened the door, released the brake, and shut it quickly. The car rolled down into the water, descending very slowly at the last, but continuing down until it was finally out of sight.
Womack climbed back in the tractor and lit a cigarette. His fingers shook. He gritted his teeth. The worst of it was over. There would be deep tire tracks, on the slope, and he would have to be careful to smooth them away, but except for that he was finished.
He took a few drags on the cigarette and started the engine.
The rig wouldn’t move!
Again and again he tried to gain some traction on the muddy slope, but the tractor only sank deeper into the muck, as if something below the surface of the mud were trying to devour the rig.
Womack shut off the engine. His clothes were soaked. He shivered. He could feel nothing at all. The crowns of the pine trees made a scratching noise in the wind. After a while Womack got out of the rig abruptly and walked over to the Thunderbird.
Lila looked as if she might faint. She was very pale. He opened the door and got in beside her. For a while there was no sound but the swish of the trees. Then Womack said, “The rig is stuck. I can’t get it back up the slope.”
She didn’t answer. It was as if she hadn’t heard. She hesitated a moment and said, “Are you sure they were all...”
“Dead?” he said acidly.
“Yes.” He realized that it was the first time they had really spoken since that night in the cafe. “Both guards. And White. One of the guards shot him twice...”
“And Sammy?”
“Sammy, too.” He didn’t tell her how Sammy had died. He didn’t want to talk about it. He said, “What now?”
“I don’t know.”
“We could head north. San Francisco, maybe.”
“We?”
“Of course.”
She looked at him, amazed.
“Listen.” Womack’s mouth was grim. “We’re in this thing together. Until we get in the clear... if we ever do... we might as well stick together.”
“Why?”
He hesitated a moment. “Because I’d feel safer if you were with me.”
“You mean you don’t trust me.”
“I’d feel safer, that’s all.”
“And the money?”
“The money belongs to us now.”
“I want half.” There was a strange tone in her voice. She looked at him suspiciously.
“Are you crazy?”
“No.” Her mouth was grim when she answered. “The money is the only thing that matters to me now. I figure I’m entitled to half. I want it. Suddenly I want it more than anything in the world.”
Womack said hesitantly, “We can work that out later.”
“And in the meantime?”
“It’s like I told you.” He reached over and removed the keys from the ignition of the car. “In the meantime we stick together.”
Womack walked back to the rig. It was getting dark. He transferred the money from the sacks to several of the cardboard cartons that had contained food. It gave him a strange sensation to actually handle the money and he swallowed once from emotion.
Using his flashlight, he removed the registration papers and license plates from the rig and tossed them out into the center of the pond. With a hammer and chisel he mutilated what identifying marks he could find on the engine. He would never be able to prevent them from tracing the rig, he knew, but this way he might delay them for days — weeks maybe.
There were six cartons of money. Womack made six trips between the Thunderbird and the rig. By then it was completely dark. The silhouette of the pine trees emerged pitch black against a sky sprinkled with stars.
Womack removed two suitcases from the trunk of the car and put them on the back seat. It was very cold and he began to shiver. He put the money cartons in the trunk.
Lila was smoking quietly when Womack got into the car. He studied her face; in spite of the darkness he could make out her expression, and her calmness impressed him.
She said, “There are some clean khakis in the suitcase. You had better get out of those wet trousers.”
“I’ll stop at a filling station on the road.” He started the engine. “Right now I want to get out of this place.”
In the beam of the headlights, the rig looked like a giant ox stuck in a mudhole, waiting patiently to die.
Womack could not shake off the feeling of sadness as he spiraled down the mountain road to the highway.
22
The first thing they did was get rid of the Thunderbird. It was in Lila’s name — a gift from Sammy. They traded it for a three-year-old Ford and eleven hundred dollars cash. Actually, they needed the money. It would be a long while before they would want to touch any of the cash from the robbery.
The used car dealer helped Womack transfer the cartons of money. When he had loaded the last one in he wiped his fat, bespectacled face and said, “What are you carrying in there... bricks?”
“Yeah.” Womack smiled at him. “Bricks.”
The trunk wouldn’t close all of the way. They had put the suitcases in also. Womack waited while the salesman got a ball of heavy twine, then fastened the trunk lid securely, trying not to work too fast — trying not to give the impression of someone in hasty flight.
They gased up in town and had a quick meal. When they emerged from the cafe, Lila stopped abruptly, rummaged through her purse. When she had found what she wanted, she scrawled the words Just Married in cherry red lipstick on the door of the car. Then she repeated the message on the opposite side.
“There,” she said, smiling thinly, and returned the lipstick to her purse. “Who would ever think we were a couple of criminals?”
Womack looked at her, tried to read some other meaning in her eyes, discovered nothing.
Two hours later they turned onto Highway 101, headed north toward San Francisco. It was getting late and there was a slight fog. Womack could hear the ocean breaking on the beach to his left. The sound was like a drumbeat. He could feel his lips compressed to a taut line. His shoulders ached. He thought, relax. Get a grip on yourself. The worst is over. From now on in, things are going to be rosy as hell...
Lila stirred beside him. She had tried closing her eyes but whenever she did she saw the huddled figures on the floor of the van. The image frightened her. She had never before seen a dead man. She felt a sudden chill. She had put a coat on over the playsuit and she pulled the collar around her throat.
Deliberately, she looked at the man next to her, wondering at the events that had brought them together. They hadn’t spoken since leaving Riverside. She found that she wanted to talk. She said, “Do you know anyone in San Francisco?”
“No. It will be better if we don’t.”
“What will we do?”
“I don’t know.” He said nothing for several moments. Then: “Find someplace to live.”
“You take it for granted that I will live with you?”
“Why not?”
She looked at him silently. Then she said calmly, “If you don’t know why not, you’re a bastard.”
He remained silent, saying nothing.